Liberty Minded Travelers

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Memories are Like Flowers…

A few days after the floods in Colorado, I happened upon this hummingbird in a garden I frequent.

Looking back on this photo brings to mind a series of events, each time I look back at the photos from that day, or any day, my memories are different.

The memories are honest, but each look back into the past seems to add a new stroke of the brush. Another detail of the past can be enjoyed.

While not all memories are picture perfect, they are good enough for a painting.

Paintings have more texture, depth. Why do people stare at the Mona Lisa for hours? Because, the depth and texture of this art is a rich place of exploration.

Memories are better than flowers ~ memories never fade.

Memories are better than fine art ~ memories grow into rich treasures of the mind.

Traveling around the U.S. and a few other places on the globe has taught me something. When traveling, I often visit places more than one time. Several of the landmarks, cities, lakes, parks, monuments, have been a resting place, a place of reflection.

Being in the same place, two, three, four times over a period of years can fire up a mixture of emotion. One of the most difficult travels, the horror vacation from hell may someday be all the magic of Disney without the lines. And let’s get real, who wants to wait in lines?

Seeing those places, the places of difficult memories, can suck bad if the persons perspective is hurting.

It’s not the place that matters, it’s the memories and how we choose to repaint them.

Some of the repainting comes from raw emotion. Go ahead and make a mess all over the place, spill paint, yell, shout, scream. The art you make ends in depth and beauty.

If you should make a work of art, don’t be surprised by those bystanders who stare with empty faces into the canvas of your life.

If only a passing moment I might live once again, then in a new light I would see those memories begin.

Some memories would push doubt, remorse, shame, to those memories I have a paintbrush, colors, and spirited artistry to solve their pain.

For those most difficult memories, happy, joyful strokes I paint, paint, paint again. There is no eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, but there is sunshine.

Do you at times paint memories with wide strokes to re-image the struggles, wrongs, joys, celebrations, simple moments, lesson learned?

In the end, how do you paint memories. Is it like a hummingbird, carefully feeding, carefully pollinating other works of art?